The Dragon
by Dissidia180
Summary: Hiro had always been afraid of storms, and this one was no different. But now, with no Tadashi to comfort him, he had to deal with it on his own. (One-shot)


_Welcome, all, whether you be new readers or my devoted followers. This is my Easter present to you all. I know I can't give you chocolate eggs or anything like that, but I wanted to give you __**something.**__ So, here we go. Enjoy!_

There was a dragon outside the window. He could hear it, growling and writhing in the clouds. The beating of its wings howled through the tall, glass city buildings and slammed against the fragile window panes. Its streaming tears battered the buildings, running through the streets and making them glisten. The droplets cast strange, shifting patterns on the back of the curtains and across the floor. It's freezing breath rushed in with the drafts and made him shiver as it dragged its cruel fingers down his spine. It's claws pounded the roof tiles in an unstoppable din.

The creature writhed and squirmed like a snake. Every few minutes, he winced as the dragon's fire lit the sky, illuminating everything for a split-second in an obscene, penetrating half-light. And after that, there would follow an unnerving, tense pause, before it would open its great maw once again and let forth an almighty roar that shook the very earth beneath him. A roar that rumbled and rattled across the entire valley, echoing between the high sky scrapers, thundering up and down streets, rattling glass in windowpanes and doors in their frames and whipping the breath from men's lungs.

Hiro wrapped his arms around his head, his body quaking with fear. No matter how much he told himself he was safe, that it couldn't get in, that the fear he felt was quite irrational, he couldn't stop the quiet whimpers from escaping his lips when the flash lit his small room and penetrated the sheets that he had pulled over his head. His heart was beating painfully in his throat, guts tying themselves in knots within his thin frame, skin turned to chalk by the hammering of the dragon's wings on the windows and the lashing of its claws on the roof above.

And then, it came again, that god awful roar that shook the frame of his bed and reverberated inside his skull. It tore the air apart and shuddered through the valley, out to sea, dying away across the water. Surely, it wouldn't be long now before the storm passed. He just wished it would go away so that he could finally get some sleep. The young boy was exhausted, from the fear, from his late night working, from the constant stress that college work was putting on him, and all he wanted to do was bury his head in his pillow and let sleep take him once again.

The storm put a stop to all of that. Hiro was terrified of storms. He had been since he was tiny, and it had only become worse with age. It didn't help at all that he knew the fear was completely unfounded. His entire being screamed at him to _calm down and stop being such a baby!_ But no matter what, he still quaked and gasped with terror as the dragon once again lashed its terrible wings and rattled the window panes.

Resolving that, if he couldn't get any sleep and couldn't concentrate on work, he might as well fill the time doing _something, _he swallowed thickly and tried to dredge what little courage the dragon had left him with from his gut. Perhaps getting a drink from the kitchen? His throat _was_ dry, after all. Taking a deep, strengthening breath, he forced his body to move and pull the clammy sheets off his messy head of black hair. The young boy pushed himself upright, swinging his skinny legs down from the mattress and placing his bare feet on the cold, varnished wooden floor. He cursed the shaking of his thin hands and _by god_ did he detest the way his fright turned his knees to jelly.

Nevertheless, Hiro still pushed himself upright and urged himself to gently pace towards the head of the stairs. Another flash brought him close to falling at the top, and he clung to the bannister, waiting for the dragon-cry to quake through the earth and shake him to the core. His bed was so close. He could just run back...

_No. I've been frozen long enough. It's time to face this stupid fear._ Hiro stood like a sentinel as the thunder rolled through, sweaty palms gripping the bannister post with white-knuckled intensity. His heart pressed into his throat, threatening to choke him, while his stomach squirmed and tried to make him gag.

"Y-You don't scare me, storm," He breathed, ashamed though he was to find the breathy tremor in his tone.

The kitchen was but a few steps away. Tugging his locked knuckles from their place on the varnished wood, Hiro bravely stepped forth, his breathing ragged, body trembling with alarming intensity. The curtains in the kitchen weren't pulled and the street lights outside cast a sick orange glow across the tiled floor, streaked with the twisting shadows of the rain. Hiro ran his hand through his long, messy black hair, glancing at the pictures on the wall as he passed them. One in particular caught his eye.

He could see his parents there in their wedding photo, staring out, smiling warmly into the lens on the happiest day of their life. They looked so happy, so perfect: his beautiful mother with her thin, smiling eyes that crinkled ever-so-slightly at the edges with perfect lines of laughter. She was what some called a 'pure blood' Japanese, though she never cared for the stereotype, or so Aunt Cass had told him. Her long, black hair was arranged ceremonially atop her head, beaded clips and chopsticks holding it expertly in place, and her thin shoulders were draped with an extravagant red and gold kimono beaded with jasper and jade.

And there, on her right, stood his father, a tall, imposing man with mousey brown hair and a strong jaw. His broad shoulders were made to look even broader by the thick padding of his black tuxedo and his dark brown eyes held unfathomable depths of kindness. Hiro look down to his mother's lap, where her small, radiant amber hand was tucked neatly into that of her husband's. His looked pale, sickly, even, in comparison, though it was smooth and wide and strong.

Tadashi had his father's hands. Hiro remembered thinking that when the two used to work together in the days of old. Though both brothers had a fairer complexion, their hair was black as midnight, just like their mother's. He could see himself reflected in the glass of the portrait's frame. He had her eyes, too, he noticed – almond shaped and lined with thick, black lashes. Staring at the photo almost made him want to meet them. However, there was no hope of that; they were dead.

Not that he minded. He never really knew them to start with. Tadashi, however, had, and he'd always liked to remind his little brother. In fact, he'd never missed an opportunity. But whatever he said, he had said out of love, with only Hiro's best interests at heart. _God,_ how the young boy missed his older brother. It was only himself and his aunt left of his small, broken little family.

Another flash brought him back to his senses, and he gave an involuntary yelp of panic, his back slamming into the bannister behind him as he jumped. The prepubescent slapped a hand to his lips, listening intently for any sound of his guardian waking up, but luckily, the silence suggested that he'd slipped under the radar. Cursing his irrational mind, he continued on to the bottom of the stairs and padded shakily over to the sink, where he took his glass from the draining board and filled it with water.

Just as he was bringing the drink to his lips, the dragon lit the sky again, and Hiro caught a glimpse of a figure standing just around the corner, hiding in the shadows of the open-plan living area, hunched over with a hand at their stomach. However, past that, he couldn't process much detail. The split second of half-light gave him only enough of an image to frighten him to his wits end and have him send the glass crashing to the floor with a girlish scream of terror.

"Hiro!" He recognised the voice instantly; it belonged to his Aunt Cass. The woman hurried forward, one hand keeping her silk dressing gown from slipping off her shoulders. "Don't move – I'll get a dustpan!" She instructed hastily, flicking a switch and turning on the overhead light.

Hiro's world suddenly turned upside down, and he fell back against the corner cupboards, enveloped in a blanket of smothering light-headedness. The young boy's vision blurred and threatened to fail and his breath came in short, sharp gasps. His heart stopped and started in the base of his throat. Finally, when his efforts to stave of this loss of conciousness appeared to be failing, Hiro's knees gave out beneath him and he slid hopelessly to the floor.

"You'll be fine, sweetie, just put your head between your knees and breathe!" He heard his guardian pipe up encouragingly from nearby. Looking up, he found her closer than he'd presumed, sweeping broken glass into a dustpan in order to get to him. As he focused on her urgent, pale face, the dizzy spell began to fade, and he was left with a single, resounding, embarrassing thought: _I almost fainted at Aunt Cass. _

She was suddenly there beside him, fussing as usual. "Oh, Hiro, my poor baby! Are you okay? Are you sick?" Her cold hand slid under his thick hair to press against his forehead. "What are you doing down in the kitchen at this hour?"

"I-I wanted a drink," The teen replied, though he was taken aback by how hopelessly breathless and scared he sounded.

"Ooh, honey, are you scared of the storm?" She cooed, crouching before him now, her hands on his shoulders.

"Who, me? Afraid of a little weather? D-Don't be ridiculous!" He laughed scornfully, though it wasn't entirely convincing, his voice cracking disconcertingly. However, any remaining doubts were washed from his guardian's mind when a roll of thunder shook the building's foundation and Hiro's eyes widened comically. The little kitten squeak that escaped his lips topped it off like a cherry on a cake.

"Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, honey. A lot of people are scared of thunder." Cass took his hand and hauled him to his feet. It was only then that the prepubescent realised that the seat of his pyjama shorts were soaked through with spilled water. He grimaced.

"It's entirely irrational!" He argued, eyeing the mess on the floor. "It can't actually hurt me, there's no reason to be scared!"

"There's no reason to be scared of spiders, Hiro, but that doesn't stop me from screaming at them." Cass smirked good-heartedly. Her nephew grabbed the back of a kitchen chair to steady himself, a small, weak smile playing on his lips at the thought. His face fell as his eyes trailed back to the shards of glittering glass strewn upon the tiles beneath his feet. _That was my favourite cup..._

"B-But I'm fifteen!"

"Yes, and I'm gone thirty." The older woman placed her hands on her hips. "Everyone has their fears, honey. It's only natural."

As lightning flashed again, the young student moaned with anguish at how utterly _pathetic_ he must look, standing there with wobbling knees, a cold sweat beading his brow, his body shaken by unstoppable tremors. "All this because of a warm weather front and a huge cloud. How _stupid_!"

"Hiro..." Cass moved towards him as he flopped down into the chair, sliding his fingers into the tangles of his hair. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in close, wincing at his trembling. He leant against her warmth, taking comforting handfuls of her cotton night dress as he wrapped his arms around her and resting his head against the soft silk draped over her shoulder.

Beyond her embrace, he could hear the rain relenting. The storm dragon beat its wings one last time as it slowly moved away out to sea. No more did its claws grasp at the roof tiles. No more did its fire light the skies. No more did its roar shake the foundations of the world. Subdued at last, the creature gave a last few growls and groans before disappearing across the endless miles of the ocean beyond.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Aunt Cass."

"Don't be sorry, sweetie. Just help me clean up this mess, okay?"


End file.
